


Consequences

by rubixen



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, First Meeting, Fluff, Taking care of Credence, he deserves better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubixen/pseuds/rubixen
Summary: You, the reader, volunteer to help Mary Lou Barebone serve food to the street children while her daughter is away, and meet a boy who desperately needs help.





	1. Volunteering

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I'm obsessed with Credence after watching fbawtft so had to write something! He deserves so much better.
> 
> I'm not sure whether to carry on with this or just leave it as it is so please let me know what you think!

As you neared the aged, run-down building, your decision to volunteer for Mary Lou Barebone was becoming less and less desirable. You had heard her mention during one of her 'meetings' that she was looking for someone to help serve food to the street children of the city for a few days whilst her eldest daughter had to travel. Even though you didn't agree in any way with what the New Salem Philanthropic Society stood for, you couldn't turn down the chance to help those who needed the support that they could offer.

You'd watched the woman talk so passionately about the cause of the SSPS and what it wanted to achieve. Regardless of how insane she sounded talking about the existence of witches and magic, the idea that anyone could contain enough hatred to wish for mass genocide made your stomach turn. After the 'meeting', you had gone up to Mary Lou and offered your help, noting her surprise at someone volunteering so soon. She had told you to be there at 5pm and thanked you for your kindness; you definitely weren't expecting her to be so nice or to speak with such a soft tone to her voice. Maybe you had misjudged her a little. 

While you were talking to her, you didn't notice the tall, dark-haired boy's eyes shoot up to watch you, the tiniest glimmer of hope in them.

The winter bitterness had settled and you pulled your coat tightly around you, trying to stay warm. You could now see the door which you knew would soon be open, allowing in anyone who needed a hot meal and shelter for a short time. You knew you were doing the right thing, but that didn't stop an uneasy feeling from rising in the pit of your stomach.

You reached the door, knocked three times, and waited. After a few seconds, the door opened, revealing the tall, dark-haired boy. You recognised him from the 'meetings'. He was always stood around Mary Lou Barebone handing out flyers to those who came to listen. You noticed how he always kept his head bowed, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and kept his body hunched, as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. He had the sharpest jawline of any person you had ever seen, and you could tell he would be much taller if he didn't stand the way he did. 

"Hello, I'm (y/n). I'm here to help out?" 

He just nodded, not looking up, so you took that as a sign to go inside the old building. It looked as though a strong breeze could dismantle it and send broken pieces of corrugated metal tumbling down the street. The bottom floor was mainly made up of one large room. Two long tables with benches for the children to eat their meals on sat in the centre. On the right there was another table with stacks of bowls and spoons on them. You could see the stairs leading to the second floor and wondered what the rest of the building might look like; it certainly didn't feel very homely down here.

"Mother will be down in a few minutes." The boy told you without looking up. You could tell he was about your age, but his poor health made him look younger. 

"What's your name?" You asked him cautiously, not wanting to scare him away. He seemed so fragile. You had noticed the way he constantly kept his hands balled into tight fists, too. His eyes flicked up to meet yours for less than half a second.

"Credence." 

"Credence." You repeated it back and liked the feel and sound of it. "I like that name." You could have sworn you saw the faintest trace of a smile cross his lips, and you noticed how his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Every move he made was so delicate. You were enveloped in a comfortable silence as Credence had a moment of realisation, turned around, and walked into a back room, coming back out carrying a large pot and placing it on the table with the bowls and spoons. 

Credence turned around as if to speak to you, but in the same moment footsteps resounded around the room, letting you know Mary Lou Barebone was finally coming downstairs. It was as if Credence had been struck; he shrank back into himself immediately, bowing his head and keeping his arms tightly at his sides. You wondered why he reacted so strangely and knew that it wasn't something you could just ask him, but it was bothering you greatly.

You turned around and watched her, her daughter following closely behind. You had seen the younger girl at the 'meetings' too, standing close to her mother handing out leaflets like Credence was. Ms. Barebone smiled at you as she got closer, offering a hand to shake. You shook her hand and she thanked you again for offering to help. 

"The children and I are very grateful. My eldest daughter Chastity is travelling to spread the word about our cause but should only be away for a few days at most." Again, you were surprised at how soft-spoken she was and how kind she sounded; nothing at all like the way she spoke when she was talking to the half-witted followers of her ridiculous society. 

"It's no problem, really. I like being able to help those who need it. The world could use a little more kindness." You smiled back at her and her youngest daughter, but the young girl kept a stony expression on her face. Ms. Barebone looked to the table behind you and scowled. 

"Credence."   
Credence flinched so slightly that most people would have missed it.  
"Why haven't you put out the flyers?" Her voice had gone from kind to full of malice in a matter of seconds.   
"I'm sorry mother, I was just about to -"  
"Go and get them. Now."  
"Yes mother." Credence scuttled quickly into the back room and returned carrying a large stack of flyers which he began laying out on the table in smaller piles. 

You walked over to him, smiling at him and gesturing for him to give some to you so you could help. As he handed them to you, he had his eyebrows knitted and a slightly confused look on his face.

A short while later the doors had been opened and children were flooding in. It broke your heart to see them wearing filthy and torn clothes, knowing it was all they had to get them through the winter. You took your place behind the table, ladle in hand, to fill up bowls after Credence had handed them out. Mary Lou spent her time trying to get the children in quiet, orderly lines. 

As the first child was handed a bowl and raised it for you to fill, Mary Lou suddenly shouted.

"Collect your flyers before you eat, children!" 

They all raced to grab a handful of leaflets each, and everything seemed to fall into place in your head. Of course this woman, who wanted an entire race dead, couldn't possibly be giving out free food just for the act of kindness itself; she wanted something in return. The act of 'kindness' wasn't for the the children at all. It was for the cause. If they wanted to eat, they had to hand out flyers in the cold for Ms. Barebone. 

After the young boy who had raised his bowl for you had been and picked up some flyers, he returned. His trousers were torn at both knees, and covered in mud from where he'd been sleeping on the freezing, foul ground. He had a shirt on that was obviously too big for him, covered by a tatty brown jacket with tears at the elbows, several of the buttons on the front missing. His unruly hair and dirty face really exaggerated just how much these children must have been struggling. The world wasn't fair.

You filled his bowl with the porridge-like substance and made your way through around fifty others before everyone was finally sat down eating. Watching them eat reminded you why you were there in the first place, making your heart swell. 

When they were all gone, Mary Lou telling them all to make sure they handed out all their flyers on the way out, you began tidying up the bowls. As you were stacking them into piles, there was a sudden crash behind you. You spun round to find a shocked-looking Credence with the cooking pot at his feet. What was left of the food had spilled all over the floor and was seeping through the thin cracks in the stone floor. You looked back at Credence's face and he was even paler than he was before. He looked terrified. He was squeezing his left hand tightly with his right and his eyes stayed glued to the ground, lips parted ever so slightly.

"I'm so sorry Mother, I'm so sorry, it was an accident, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" His words were barely above a whisper.

As you were about to speak to him to let him know it was okay, that it was just an accident and that it wouldn't take any time at all to clear up, Mary Lou Barebone started talking.

"You know what you've done, and you know what's going to happen, Credence. There must be consequences for mistakes." The evenness of her voice sent a chill down your spine. You could tell she was angry, but there was something so much more unsettling about her staying calm than simply shouting and letting her anger out, and Credence's reaction made you realise that something was very wrong here.

"It's okay Ms. Barebone, it won't take long to clean up, I can have it done in 5 minutes."  
"No. Credence will do it later."  
"It was just an accident, I know-"  
"You may leave now, Miss (y/l/n). Thank you for offering to help us, we are all very grateful."

You looked to Credence, whose eyes once again flicked up to meet yours for a millisecond. But in that millisecond you saw so much pain and panic.

"Are you sure I can't-"  
"Please leave."

You didn't know what to do. You knew how out of place you were arguing with this woman and yet you just couldn't help yourself. You wanted to tell her to leave him alone, to let you sort out the mess and to understand that it was just an accident. But you couldn't. This wasn't your home, and these weren't people you had ever been around before.

As you picked up your coat and walked to the door, you took one last glance back at Credence. He didn't look up, and as much as it pained you, you left him to the mercy of his mother's cruel words.

As you made the 20 minute walk home, you felt terrible. Why didn't you stand up for him? You decided you were going to go back the next day; you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself if you didn't have the chance to make sure Credence was okay. You didn't even know why you cared so much about him when you hardly knew him. Maybe it was the subtle smile that caressed his lips when you told him you liked his name, as if those were the first kind words that had been spoken to him.

You pulled your coat around you again, thinking of the children you served today who would be stuck out in this weather all night long. You got lost in your miserable thoughts, Credence floating in and out of them, until you were at your front door. As you felt for your keys, you realised they weren't in your coat at all. Your head fell into your palms as you let out a deep sigh. They must have fallen out when you put your coat down earlier. At Mary Lou Barebone's house. That realisation made your heart thunder in your chest, but you didn't have a spare key so you knew you would have to go back. Why did these things always seem to happen to you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you were scared to go back. You were scared of what you might see or hear, worried that the anger Ms Barebone contained might be directed at you. At the same time, you would get to make sure Credence was okay sooner than you thought. You walked faster, anticipation and nervousness rattling in your chest.

Once again, you faced the large doors. Closing your eyes for a few seconds, you took the time to compose yourself. "You can do this", you told yourself. You knocked three times. 

No answer.

You hadn't been gone that long, there was no way they could all be asleep so quickly, so you knocked again. As you were about to lose hope, the door opened slightly, revealing Modesty standing wide-eyed peering at you through the crack in the door.

"Modesty. Hello. I'm sorry, I think I left my keys here. Would it be okay for me to have a look for them?" Relief was evident in your voice. Silently, she opened the door to let you in after a couple of seconds hesitation.

"Where's you mother?" You asked the young girl. It had surprised you that she was the one to open the door. You started searching for your keys.  
"Mother went to get more food for tomorrow." Her voice sounded sad, like her mind was somewhere else entirely, and it worried you. Before you could finish your thought, you spotted a shiny object lying under the table. Finally! You picked up your keys and put them in the inside pocket of your coat. You couldn't believe you'd left them here, it was such a stupid thing to do. Looking at the girl again, you could tell something was wrong.

"Are you alright, Modesty?" She nodded quickly, but you knew there was something she wasn't telling you.  
"You can trust me, I just want to help." You tried to sound as reassuring as you could, you didn't want her to be afraid of you or think that you had some ulterior motive. She thought about it for a moment, before giving up trying to convince you that everything was okay. No one had offered to help before, surely this had to be a good choice. 

Tentatively, Modesty walked over to you and took your hand in hers before turning around and guiding you over to the stairs. She lead you up to the second floor. Her secretiveness was making you slightly uncomfortable but you followed her anyway until she stopped in front of a closed door. You thought you could hear faint noises coming from inside. The girl looked at you once more, and it felt as though she was judging you in some way, before she turned the handle and pushed the door open. 

The room was small, tiny in fact. The only furniture was a rickety old bed covered in a discoloured white sheet, a small wardrobe and a bed side table. This was not a nice place to be living. The light was dim, but you could make out a shape huddled on the floor at the end of the bed. Credence. You looked to Modesty as if asking for permission, before walking closer to him. He was crying. Not just crying, sobbing. The kind of crying where you can't catch your breath and that wracks your body with shakes even though it's mostly silent. He was curled up, leaning against the bed with his hands in tight fists and his knees brought up to his chest. He was breaking your heart.

"Credence?" You stepped closer.  
"Credence, I just want to help, okay?" Knowing he wasn't going to speak to you, you knelt down in front of him and your heart felt like it was being torn to pieces even more. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and he looked so broken. What had happened to him to make him this upset?

Carefully and gently, you put your hand on his arm. He flinched almost violently as if your touch had burnt him.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you Credence. I'm here to help." You placed you hand on his arm again, and this time the flinch seemed more out of habit than anything else, but it was small. His crying subsided a little, and as he had done earlier, he let his eyes meet yours for no longer than a second, as if he was searching them to decide whether he should trust you or not. It was the same as his sister had done.

"What happened?" You spoke softly, as if even your words could damage him. He closed his eyes as he slowly uncurled his arms, setting his balled fists in front of you. When he opened his hands, palms up, you were overcome with anger and sadness. Cruel red lashes covered his pale skin, some so bad they were bleeding. You knew this had been done on purpose.

"Did your mother do this?" You tried to hide how angry you were, you needed to be there for him. The broken boy nodded, his eyes still closed. Looking at his hands once more, you knew you needed to get him out of there. You sat down opposite him and took his hands in yours as gently as you could, holding them from underneath.

"I want you to come with me, where you'll be safe. You don't have to stay but at least let me take care of your hands. Please." You were desperate for him to let you help. When you thought he wasn't going to reply, he muttered quietly.  
"Okay."  
You stood up and motioned for him to do the same. He looked so weak and scared as he stood in front of you, shoulders hunched, eyes on the ground. You remembered how cold it was outside.  
"Do you have a coat?" Credence shook his head. You weren't surprised, at the 'meetings' he was always the only one without a winter coat, so you took yours off to give to him. You were the type of person to choose warmth over style, and in this moment you were even more thankful for that.

He seemed reluctant to take it, but there was no way you were letting him walk that far in nothing but battered old clothes that the icy wind would relentlessly pierce through.  
"You need it more than I do." You had to reassure him that it was okay twice more before he finally put it on. Before you left, Modesty whispered a "thank you". You gave her a small smile, told her you would look after him, and made your way outside. 

The walk home was in silence. You were so glad you managed to get him away before that vile woman got back. But even if she had come home, there was no way you would have left him again. You had made that dreadful mistake once already. When you reached your front door for the second time, you unlocked it and ushered Credence inside. Showing him to the living room, you got him to sit down on the couch.

"I'll be back in a minute. I need to get something to patch up your hands with." You got a small nod in response. You always kept a first aid kit in the house just in case, and got it down from the top shelf of a kitchen cupboard. You were nervous. You didn't really know what you were doing and it wasn't every day that you invited basically a complete stranger into your home. But he needed help and you were grateful that you could be the one to offer it, especially because you felt like this was partly your fault. If you hadn't left earlier, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Sitting down next to Credence, you turned your body to face him.   
"I'll try my best not to hurt you, but it might sting a bit." He nodded again, and you took his balled hands into yours and got him to put them down in front of you. Seeing the lashes again in better light made you feel as sick as you did the first time. Blood had dried all over them, so you sorted that first using warm water and a cloth. You dabbed the wounds with antiseptic alcohol which made Credence flinch, but it didn't seem to hurt too much. Finally, you wrapped his hands with bandages and you were done. 

You took the supplies back into the kitchen and came back with two hot cups of tea. You noticed how he ran his fingers over the bandages gently, examining them.  
"I don't know if you like tea, but I just thought it might warm us up a little." You smiled at him and handed him the cup. He took a careful sip and put it down on the small table in front of him.

"I want you to know that you can stay here for as long as you want. I have a spare room and you'd, you know, be safe here." The concept of being safe was a distant memory to Credence, and the idea of it seemed almost like a fantasy. He didn't understand why someone would be kind to him, let alone for no real reason at all. That feeling was overwhelming, and he felt himself start to panic. What if it was all a trick? What if his mother turned up at the door and hurt him again? What if he did something wrong and you turned on him? But he'd never been shown kindness like this before, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you, a dependence growing already.

As you watched Credence, you knew something was wrong. His breathing was becoming shallow and fast, and he was clenching his hands tightly, his eyes screwed shut. 

"Credence? It's okay. Look at me." You placed your hand on his arm. When you got no response, you brought your hands up and cupped his face, making him turn to look in your direction.  
"Look at me Credence." Slowly, he opened his eyes, and you were once again taken aback by how much pain was captured in them, tears making them shine.  
"Tell me what's wrong." You spoke to him soothingly, giving him the care and kindness that he needed.

He was crying by this point, silent tears rolling down his face and onto your hands. You did your best to wipe them away but they just kept coming.  
"I'm so scared. P-please don't leave me." You didn't know what to say; you didn't even know if you'd be able to speak at this point. This boy had been put through so much. He didn't deserve to be screamed at, to be made to feel worthless or to be beaten by someone who was supposed to love him. The fact he was so trusting of someone so quickly showed just how deprived of kindness and affection he really was. 

"I'm not going to leave you, you can trust me, I promise. You've been hurt so much, but that's going to change", you told him. You needed him to know that, finally, someone cared about him. Someone was here to be there for him and protect him.

Credence's crying started to subside, and you began to move your hands away. As you took them away from his face, he moved his head at the same time, as if he was desperate not to lose the contact. With his right arm, he quickly but gently grabbed your wrist, holding it against his delicate face, leaning into you with his eyes shut. Realising what he needed, you guided him down until he had his head in your lap, watching as he curled himself up on his side. 

You reached to a shelf beside you and pulled out a blanket, opening it out and draping it over the too-thin boy. Softly, you started to run your fingers through his dark hair, him once again leaning his head into your touch. You heard him mutter a soft "thank you (y/n)". You tried to ignore the way him saying your name made your heart beat a little faster, as you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep. For Credence, it was his first in a very long time.


	2. Dents and Moustaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day, you and Credence take a trip to Central Park and the day doesn't quite end up as you expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! This chapter ended up so much longer than I expected but once I got started I just couldn't stop. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for the support so far, the comments honestly make me so so happy.
> 
> I hope you like it, please let me know what you think!

Your mind was fuzzy as you began to wake up, the events of the day before trapped behind the sleepy haze. The first thing you realised was that you were sat up. Why would you sleep sat up? With your eyes still closed, you twisted your neck from side to side, trying to stretch out the ache that had formed thanks to your odd sleeping position, groaning ever so slightly.

The next thing your mind focused on was the weight in your lap. Opening your eyes and looking down, what had happened yesterday came flooding back to the front of your mind. Working for Ms Barebone. Losing your keys. The boy who needed help. You remembered pulling Credence down to lay on you so that you could comfort him, and realised you both must have fallen asleep. 

Credence, who last night was facing away from you, was now lying with his face close to your stomach, his hand in front of his face. What shocked you was that your own hand was enclosed in his, the bandaged hands wrapping gently around it, holding you close. Your other hand was still burrowed in his hair, and you subconsciously began to stroke it again.

This was the first time you had seen Credence look peaceful. Not just relaxed, genuinely peaceful. When he was asleep, he didn't have to deal with the cruel world he was living in. He didn't have to think about his mother and constantly worry about the next time he'd be beaten, didn't have to worry about making mistakes and didn't have to think about all the times people who didn't even know him had called him a freak. You were sure that if he opened his eyes right now, all the pain you usually saw in them would be nonexistent.

You noticed how his lips were parted ever so slightly, but before you had the chance to have any other thoughts, he took a sharp breath in, shifting in your lap a little. The feeling of you stroking his hair made him lean into you again, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. You watched as he drowsily opened his eyes, and could tell he was trying to figure out where he was. Looking to the hand in front of his face, closed around yours, he realised what he had done and suddenly sat up, a look of panic in his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" he starred to stutter out a quiet and completely unnecessary apology.  
"Credence, it's okay." You placed a hand over his, giving him a small smile, and his breathing steadied. It saddened you that the years of abuse had led to him being so scared of every small thing he did without having full control. He saw every small action as a mistake that he would be punished for, and you desperately wanted to get him out of that mindset, even if it took a very long time. You needed to be positive, so you cast the negative thoughts to the back of your mind.

The image of Credence, sat there with a blanket around his waist, hair mussed up from sleeping on his side, made your heart warm and you couldn't help but grin. His usually perfectly preened demeanour was replaced by a cute boy who had sleep in the corner of his eyes. You wanted to tell him how happy it made you to see him like this, but you couldn't; he needed taking care of. For someone so unused to kind words and actions, the last thing you wanted to do was push it too far too soon.

"How about some breakfast?" You asked him, but he cast his eyes down immediately.  
"Um, are you sure?" He looked nervous and unsure of himself again. What you didn't know was that he was often not allowed breakfast at home. If he had disappointed his mother or if she was just in a bad mood that day, he would have to wait until dinner time to eat what was left in the serving pot. This made any offers of food questionable, because he was always scared to get his hopes up in the fear he would only be disappointed.

"Of course I am. How about some toast?" You wanted him to have something nice to eat so badly. He was so thin. You could tell he didn't usually eat properly but weren't sure whether that was his choice or someone else's. If you were made to choose, you would definitely be leaning towards it being Mary Lou's decision.

He was silent for few seconds before speaking.  
"Okay." You grinned at him again.  
"Great! Let's get going then." You got up, stretched your arms and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to ignore the ache but grimacing slightly anyway. Picking up the cups of now cold tea, you walked into your kitchen with Credence trailing behind you.

You reached for the bread, slotting two slices into the toaster and got the butter from the fridge. You set up the table for the both of you, ushering Credence to sit down which he did, but with hesitation. When the toast popped up, you put one on each plate. As you were about to butter them, you remembered the raspberry jam you'd bought a couple of days ago.

"Would you like some jam?" You asked Credence politely. Before you spoke to him, he was transfixed on tiny dents in your small wooden table, tracing his fingers over it lightly. Looking up, he nodded and muttered a "yes please", so you turned back around and spread a generous layer of the jam over each slice of toast, humming slightly while you did so. You put the plates down on the table, one in front of each of you and sat down to eat. Credence just looked at his, so you gave him an encouraging nod to let him know it was okay.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while whilst you ate, until you noticed Credence tracing over the dents again.  
"Do you want to know how that happened?" The story was one that embarrassed you greatly, so you usually kept it to yourself, but you were willing to do anything to try and make this sad boy a little happier. When he nodded, eyes not leaving the small marks in the wood, you took a deep breath.

"Well, one day I was just sitting in my living room reading when I thought 'maybe I should listen to some music while I read'. So I put my favourite album on the record player, turned the volume up, and completely forgot about my book. I got so into it, I was dancing around the house. I would have been mortified if anyone had seen me but I was having so much fun. I danced into the kitchen, and that's when I slipped on some water I'd spilt earlier in the day and landed teeth-first into the table."

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment, half laughing, half trying not to die of shame. When you took your hands away and looked at Credence, he was smiling. You had only seen him smile once, and it had been a ghost of a smile, it was there and it wasn't at the same time. But this was a proper smile. An ear-to-ear smile, and it looked like he was even trying not to laugh. Telling him had been worth it. 

"You can't tell anyone, it's so embarrassing." He kept his eyes on the now obviously teeth-shaped dents, still smiling.  
"I won't." He then looked at you properly for the first time. "I promise." You didn't know if he'd make any other promises to you in the future, but that was the best one he could have possibly started with.

"I think I'm going to go for a shower, I won't be long. Just make yourself at home, look around if you want to." You'd realised you were still wearing the same clothes as you had the day before, so were feeling a bit disgusting.  
"Okay" was his short but sweet reply. You washed up the plates and went upstairs to your bathroom. Switching on the water, you started to think about everything that had happened. You were bewildered by how much your life had changed in such a short amount of time. You didn't know how long Credence would stay, but you hoped it would at least be for a little longer so you could get to know him and help him overcome his fears.

No-one deserved to be treated the way Credence had been, it wasn't fair. You wanted to find out so much more about his life and why it had ended up so cruel. He was the single most interesting and captivating person you had ever met, and you wished you'd had the chance to speak to him sooner, to help him sooner.

You let the water wash over you, the grime from the day before disappearing down the drain with it. After washing your hair and body, you turned off the shower and got dry, before heading into your room to put on fresh clothes. You had an en-suite bathroom, which made life much easier in the winter when the race from the bathroom to the bedroom would have been a freezing half-run through the cool hall, your body being bitten by the cold.

When you finally made your way back downstairs, you entered the living room to find Credence sat on the couch reading a book. He didn't even seem to notice you come in, so when you sat down next to him he seemed startled, snapping the book shut and instantly apologising.

"I-I'm sorry, I was just looking, I can put it back." His words came out like bullets, almost fast enough to make them trip over each other. As he was about to get up to put the book back, you stopped him.  
"Credence, I don't mind. I said you could look around." He relaxed a little, his muscled unclenching from beginning to stand up, and his fingers started to stroke the front of the book absently.  
"Which one is it?" Instead of telling you, he handed you the battered old book without looking up. You recognised it immediately.

You had found this book one day while you were searching through the biggest second-hand bookstore in New York. You'd travelled especially to get there, and you couldn't wait to see what you could find. You spent at least three hours scouring the shelves trying to find something different to what you were used to. Eventually, when you reached the very depths of the store and were starting to give up hope, you found this tiny, beautiful book stuffed behind the ones lines up on the shelves.

When you took it home, you read the whole thing in one sitting. It was so different, so imaginative and so perfect. You had treasured it since. If someone had upset you, if you were ill, or just if you'd just had a bad day, you would always turn to 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. You smiled fondly at the memories of those times.

"I love this book" you told him, and you really did.  
"Me too" was not a reply you were expecting. No one else you had ever met had heard of it before, let alone read it.  
"You've read it before?" You handed the book back to him, and he held it so carefully it was as if he thought it might turn to dust in his hands.  
"My mother, uh, my real mother - had a copy. She used to read it to me." Your heart broke again. He hadn't taken his eyes off the book once, and you could tell how much it must have meant to him. You had known that Mary Lou's children were adopted, but you didn't realise it had been when Credence had already grown up.  
"Well, she clearly had good taste." A smile pulled lightly at the corners of his mouth. You wanted to keep the atmosphere lighthearted, and not let him fall into a chasm of sadness and forgotten memories that would only cause him more pain.

You couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for him to lose a mother and have her be replaced with a cruel, violent adoptive parent. Why would someone take a child in only to subject them to the life Credence had been through? Mary Lou, from what you had seen, treated Credence the worst of all. Something about him must have made Ms Barebone turn against him, or maybe she just didn't like the person he was.

"Maybe we should go out today? We could just have a walk and see what we find?" You asked Credence. You didn't want him to do anything he wasn't comfortable with, but you thought getting out of the house for a while would be a good idea.  
"Okay." Knowing that was as close to 'yes' as you were going to get, you smiled at him.  
"Great! Do you want to have a shower? Before you ask if I'm sure, I'm very sure, and then I can change your bandages too."  
"Thank you" was his reply. He didn't tell you, but he appreciated greatly the way you gave him the extra assurance he needed without him having to ask. It was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and although he was still a little unsure and nervous, it made it a lot easier. You showed him to the bathroom, gave him a towel and a new toothbrush, and left him to it. 

While you waited downstairs, you got out the medical kit and set it out on the kitchen table, quietly angry that it was even necessary. Realising Credence would need something to wear out in the cold again, you went up to your bedroom and pulled out an old, slightly worn-out coat that hadn't been worn for quite some time. It shouldn't fit him, but it would, his body malnourished and slightly emaciated. Leaving your room, you decided to sit at the table and wait for Credence, trying to ignore the dents.

Credence came back down about 20 minutes later. When he sat in the chair opposite you, you noticed that his hair was still damp, causing a few strands to stick to his forehead. His cheeks were pink because of the hot water, and he looked so much better. You didn't want him to think you were staring, so you stopped looking and picked up the antiseptic liquid again. He put his now un-bandaged hands in front of you without you asking.

"I'm sorry if this hurts." He didn't reply, so you started tending to his wounds again. Compared to the day before, they had healed an incredible amount. You knew you could never get rid of the scars underneath the fresh injuries, but you could make the current ones disappear as if they never happened. Starting fresh. You ran the cloth over a particularly deep laceration, making Credence wince. You muttered an apology before finishing and bandaging his hands again gently.

"I found this coat for you. It's my old one but it's not girly and I think it'll fit." After you had put everything away, you handed him the coat. Like the last time you'd offered him your coat, it took three lots of reassuring him that it was okay before he finally put it on.  
"Thank you."  
"You're welcome" you told him, and he truly was. You wanted him to have anything he wanted or needed.

Once you'd left your house, you started walking with no real destination in mind. Christmas was coming up, it was only a couple of weeks away now and you'd already bought Christmas presents for your family. You always loved buying presents; getting a gift just right, and seeing the reaction of whoever you were giving it to was what Christmas was all about to you. Being close with your family, they were always there for you when you needed them and supported you no matter what. If you hadn't known how lucky you were already, Credence's experiences had amplified just how lucky you felt to have them. 

"How about we go to Central Park?" You wondered whether Credence had ever been allowed to go before. It was one of your favourite places, somewhere you could escape from the claustrophobic environment of the city. His response was a nod, so you changed your trajectory.

In the run up to Christmas, it wasn't unusual for there to be little stalls in Central Park, people selling all sorts of things like mulled wine and gifts. However, you spotted the one you were hoping for. Instead of asking Credence and going through the routine of having to convince him it was okay, you walked straight up to the tiny temporary hut and ordered two hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows. 

You carried them to a bench and sat down, Credence doing the same. When you handed him one of the cups, he thankfully took it without protest.  
"Thank you." He spoke quietly as usual, still uncomfortable with making himself too noticeable as if he would be punished for it. He waited until you took a sip before he took one himself, a whipped cream moustache left behind on his face without him noticing. When you looked at him, you couldn't help but let out a giggle, making Credence shoot you a very confused glance, knitting his eyebrows together.

"You've got a little something..." you gestured to your own top lip, and his hand shot to his new moustache, realising what had happened. You were still giggling, and his face had turned an adorable shade of pink while he scrubbed at his top lip with the back of his hand. Trying to ignore the fact you'd described him as adorable in your head, you turned your head forwards again and carried on drinking your hot chocolate.

"My mother taught me to ride a bike here. It took so many tries but, eventually, I did it." You smiled to yourself at the memory; it really had taken a long time, but she had never given up on you.  
"I've never learned", Credence replied, and you weren't surprised.  
"Well maybe I can teach you one day." You imagined him wobbling along on a bike with you holding on to make sure he didn't topple over.  
"I'd like that." The whisper of a smile crossed his lips again as he took another sip, and that word crossed your mind again, but this time with others. You shook it off.

You both finished your drinks and started to walk back towards your house. It was too cold to stay out for too long and you didn't want either of you catching a cold. You were so lost in your thoughts, the grip on your wrist came to you as a surprise and you nearly turned around and punched the person you thought was attacking you. But it was too gentle to be an attacker, and you remembered who had been walking at your side. 

"Credence?" His face had turned pale and the fear had returned to his eyes. It was as if he was cemented to the spot, his eyes glued to somewhere in the distance. You turned around and followed his gaze. Mary Lou Barebone was walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. But she hadn't noticed the two of you yet. You should have been more careful, you mentally scolded yourself for not thinking about which way you were walking. Quickly and without hesitation, you pulled Credence into the closest alleyway where you couldn't be seen, making sure Ms Barebone had passed.

"It's okay, we're safe" you told him, but the shock of seeing her had taken over his mind, making him unable to process what you were saying. You approached him slowly, standing in front of him as he cast his eyes to the ground.  
"Credence." You took his face gently in your hands like you'd done the night before, making him look up at you. "We're safe." 

You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs comfortingly when you noticed his eyes welling up with tears, and pulled him into a hug. One of your hands was wrapped around the back of his head, gently stroking his hair, while the other was around his shoulders. He cried softly into the crook of your neck, with you whispering comforting words to him to try and calm him down.

"Shh, Credence. It's okay. You're safe. I've got you."

At first, Credence kept his hands at his sides, but after about 30 seconds, when the crying became more harsh and he became more desperate for comfort, he cautiously brought one arm up around your waist and gripped your coat tightly in his fist. When you didn't push him away and only offered him more calming words, he had the courage to wrap his other arm around you, again balling your coat into his fists as he shook quietly, tears seeping through closed eyelids wet on your neck. 

You held him for as long as he needed, until the short sharp breaths against your neck turned long and deep, and he was able to whisper a "I'm sorry" with his head still buried. He was ashamed of being so scared all the time, ashamed that the smallest incident reduced him to a shaking, sobbing mess. But, despite it all, you made him feel like it was okay. You made him feel like he didn't need to be ashamed and scared of letting his emotions be seen. When he was with Mary Lou, there was no comfort, no warmth. Until now, he'd never truly felt cared for by anyone other than someone who was already long gone.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Shall we go home?" You felt him nod and the reluctance to let go was obvious from both of you. You squeezed him tighter for a moment before unravelling yourself, keeping one hand on his face to wipe away the tears that were left there. You walked with him to the entrance of the alley and made sure it was safe. When you looked at Credence, you could tell he was still a little worried. Wordlessly, you took his hand in yours. He looked a little surprised, but he held your hand tightly, neither of you letting go until you were at your front door.

Time had flown by without you noticing, and by the time you got back, day was already starting to turn into early evening. Once you were in the warm, you both took off your coats and hung them up on your coat hooks. You told Credence that the one next to yours could be exclusively his, and this small gesture meant more to him than you could possibly know.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked Credence, already knowing what his answer would be.  
"I don't mind", was his expected reply.  
"How about I teach you some card games?" He seemed to perk up slightly at the idea. You loved playing cards; it was a family tradition to play together at Christmas and you were taught so many games from a young age.  
"I won't be any good."  
"Well I'm a great teacher", you smiled at him and walked to the living room, grabbing a pack of cards from a drawer. You sat on the floor on one side of the coffee table, and Credence sat opposite you. Taking the cards from the pack, you shuffled them and started dealing for Whist.

Over the course of the evening, you managed to teach Credence three different games. To start with, he lost a few times and you could tell it was getting to him, but after a while it was as if he didn't even have to try. The glint in his eye and the smile on his lips when he had the winning hand made your heart swell, and he would always look to you for approval to make sure he was doing the right things.

You played for hours, and you had never seen Credence so happy. He barely stopped smiling. After you taught him how to shuffle the deck, you got up to grab some food for the both of you. When you reached the doorway of the living room, plates of sandwiches in hand, you stopped. Credence was trying to build a house with the cards. The look of concentration on his face was, again, adorable. You gave in to the word this time. It was incredible to see him thinking of nothing other than the exact right way to balance a card, his eyebrows knitted in concentration. 

You took the time to properly look at him. His sharp jawline and perfect porcelain skin, framed so beautifully by his dark hair. His hands were also a marvel, it was as though they had been sculpted, and you watched the way they closed around each card so delicately.

Lost in your thoughts, you forgot that you were staring, only to be reminded when Credence's hands suddenly shot away from the table. You looked at his face and were shocked to see it had turned pink. When you realised what you'd done, yours joined him in utter embarrassment.  
"Oh, um, I-I'm sorry, I was just watching-" you trailed off and desperately wished you could cover your face in shame. Walking over to the coffee table, you put the plates down and and apologised again, feeling utterly stupid for not being able to stop yourself. 

He did something you would never have expected. Carefully, he placed his hand on top of yours, which made you turn even redder.  
"It's okay, (y/n)." His eyes flicked to yours as he said your name before returning to the coffee table. A gesture like that from Credence was a monumental step for him, and you knew it. He had never initiated contact like that before, so you were aware of the courage it must have taken.

When he didn't move his hand, you turned yours over, entwining your fingers with his once again and looked at him. He was so different and so unique in the best ways; you just wished he could see it. In this moment, Credence felt so lucky to have met you. To meet someone who, finally, accepted him for the person he was and didn't constantly push him to change. Someone who seemed to genuinely want to help him.

Before it got awkward, you motioned to the food on the plates and mentioned that you didn't want him to go hungry, almost painfully taking your hand away from his but not knowing what else to say. Once you'd both finished, you took the plates into the kitchen but left the cards where they were; you couldn't bring yourself to tear down the half-built, fairly unstable house of cards. 

"We should get some sleep. I've made up the spare room for you." After seeing him yawn, you decided sleep might be the best idea. Once you reached the door to the guest room, you turned to Credence.  
"I've had a really nice day with you, Credence" you told him, almost shyly. Did he always stand that close? You said goodnight and moved to go to your own room, but you were stopped once more by a grip on your wrist. Turning to Credence, you waited for what he wanted to say. He looked nervous again, still not able to look you in the eye.  
"Um, thank you. For everything." 

You smiled softly at him, and instead of giving him a reply wth words, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He responded much quicker this time, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your neck again. You don't know how long you stood that way; it could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. But you were both so contented and happy that it didn't matter.

You pulled away slowly, your cheek brushing his as you did so, foreheads touching. You were still so close to him, your faces only an inch away from each other. As you moved your hand to rest on his jaw, thumb lightly stroking his face, Credence shifted one hand to your side. He gripped your clothes tightly and closed his eyes as if in desperation.

After plucking up the courage, you carefully brought your lips to his. It was chaste and soft and warm, just a peck but it contained more emotion and longing than any kiss you had ever experienced before. You pulled away and whispered "is this okay?" against his lips. Instead of replying, he kissed you. You were almost too shocked to respond, but pressed your lips back against his, eyes fluttering shut. After a few more pecks, you opened your mouth slightly to properly capture his lips with your own. Credence copied you, and you moved together smoothly even though you could tell he was nervous and new to this. 

Before it got too much, you pulled away from the bliss again and opened your eyes. You kissed the corner of his mouth gently and ran your thumb across his bottom lip as he opened his eyes and looked at you, a pink tinge to his cheeks.  
"That was-" He didn't finish his sentence.  
"I know." Neither of you had let go of each other yet, the proximity was too intoxicating.

You pressed one last kiss to his cheek and unravelled yourself, Credence releasing your jumper from his tight grip and both took a step back.

"Um, I guess I'll see you in the morning then" you told him. He started to smile, and nodded.  
"Goodnight, Credence."  
"Goodnight, (y/n)." 

You fell asleep that night with a warmth in your chest you'd never felt before. A kiss had never affected you so much, and you already couldn't wait to see Credence the next day. 

While he lay in a bed a thousand times comfier than the one he was used to, Credence's mind was overcome with joy. Someone had kissed him. But not just anyone - you. He had always wondered what falling in love might feel like, and if this was it, he couldn't imagine it feeling any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a long one but I hope it was okay, I'd love to know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, not sure whether to carry on with this or not but I hope people like it.
> 
> I'm also totally up for any fbawtft reader insert requests people might have!


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